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One christmas eve, the children appeared carrying a box.

“Dad,” they squealed, “surprise!”

I peered in and saw two little balls of fluff. One was a black tom with white paws.

“He’s Blackberry,” they explained.

The other was a brown and white female whom they had named Blossom.

The kittens went in the hall along with a smart litter tray. Unfortunately, toilet protocol wasn’t in their genes. Blackberry and Blossom shat everywhere but in the tray. One day they did it in the enamelled Victorian bread bin-on the bread. That was it. I threw the bread bin away and,…

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